an old writer and his words

  • FASCINATION

    They strut across the yard as ifimagining themselves peacocks,trying to attract the eye of anyonewho might glance in their direction.The day is slowly fading, the sunreluctant to depart hoversover the waiting horizon fascinatedby these large birds on stilted legs.The cat, ensconced on the lanaiwanders over to the screenand calls out quietly, invitingconversation, always willing to…

    Lou Faber

  • AFFIXED

    I can only begin to imaginehow utterly strange I must lookto the Great Blue Heron standingin the wetland behind our home.What must he make of this odd creaturewith thick legs that seemdisproportionately short comparedto their bodies, why their neckshave such limited mobility, whythey cannot look behind themselvesor scratch their chins with their toes.But the birds…

    Lou Faber

  • SLAINTE

    Ireland should have felt alien,but it never did during our visit,nor had Scotland years earlier.And it wasn’t that I loved Scotchand Irish Whiskey and Guinnessalthough I did all of those, andtraditional Celtic music to boot.What I didn’t know then, whatI wouldn’t learn for a decadewas that my taste for thingsIrish and Scottish was woven,twisted into…

    Lou Faber

  • STILL WAITING

    Just to let you know, I still look for youeven though I know it is not at alllikely that I will find you wandering about,after all, Florida is quite some distancefrom Beverly, New Jersey and youdon’t get out much these days.Still I look, not certain if you willbe wearing your uniform ofjust civvies, but I…

    Lou Faber

  • BONUS CHRISTMAS POST: THE PEACEABLE KINGDOM

    They are meeting for the first time. Neither anticipated this meeting, but neither has shied away from it. They come from two different worlds and yet they seem to fascinate each other. Neither care is that we are watching  them for in this moment, in this place, this is their world. And mere feet apart,…

    Lou Faber

  • DEALING WITH IT

    How strange it was today to takethe younger of our two cars, this onesoon to be ten, but low milageby anyone’s standards,under 2,000 miles a year,to the dealer after needinga jump start on a battery lessthan a year old, and knowing froma lifetime of such visits the havocthey wreak on your wallet, and thenwaiting more…

    Lou Faber

  • IN BAKERSFIELD

    In Bakersfield they don’t give a damn about hurricanes, he realized. They might watch them on the news, be amazed at the force of the wind, the water, the destruction they could cause, but they were abstract, like blizzards now were to him, a curiosity of nature but having no bearing on his day to…

    Lou Faber

  • MORNING

    The clocks have begrudginglyshifted again, the earlymorning lost in darknessbarely illuminated by a waning moon.The fronds of the Royal Palm’swhisper “we are here, waitfor us.” But they are mere shadowsbegging for dawn’s arrival.Finally the sun engulfs the starswatching over the horizon,the fronds say “look at me,I will give you an infinitepalette of green that will…

    Lou Faber

  • BEARING FRUIT

    Tomorrow it will be timewith the two mangoes in the fruit bowlto make the ultimate sacrifice.Some say they were born to the taskand perhaps so, but the treefrom which they were torn saidit was not yet their time, that shewould have released them in due coursebut our impatience demanded otherwise.I will take my two knives,…

    Lou Faber

  • ONCE A HOME

    They arrived again as the sunprepared for impending departure.The wetland is verdant and smallan area the developer reluctantlyset aside for nature, not knowingor caring that the birds who oncecalled this whole area home,a thousand and more each eveningare now crowded into this aviantenement, gone are their spacious homesgiven over to ours, but the birds knowwhen…

    Lou Faber